Recently there is a newspaper article published in The Times, London regarding Nobel Prize winner genetics scientist James Watson's controversial claim that black people are inferior in intelligence to white people. Dr. Watson is said to have made the controversial remarks in an interview in The Sunday Times. The 79-year old geneticist remarked on the record that he was "inherently gloomy about the prospect of Africa" because "all our social policies are based on the fact that their intelligence is the same as ours - whereas all the testing says not really." He also claimed that the intellectual proficiency of the black people is everywhere to be seen.
By commenting on intellectual hegemony and superiority, he has stirred up a hornet's nest long after the Sir Cyril Burt scandal. In the late 60's, Sir Burt falsified and tampered data to establish the racist claim of the stupidity of the black people. After that fraud was discovered, the debate was laid to rest. But the remarks of Dr. James Watson proves that the age-old debate has yet not died its natural death. So, let us have quick look at what merit or intellectual capacity really is.
Is human intelligence a genetic phenomenon? Is an intelligent person is just genetically coded or programmed to be just intelligent? Can an intelligent person be called superior to another intelligent person? Or, for that matter, can human intelligence be qualified or quantified in no uncertain terms? No, human intelligence can neither be qualified nor be quantified - it is not as simple 'a thing' as such that it can be empirically judged to settle all scores. Yes, like all other human attributes, intelligence too have some implicitly genetic link but that is not the be-all and end-all of human intelligence. Environmental impacts in the form of nurturing comes into fray in developing it but we never can say how it will develop or how far it will develop.
Moreover, human intelligence and intelligent activities are socially nurtured, socially manifested and socially motivated and as such they are social phenomena not to be set aside for scientific community for their forensic dissection. A person is intelligent only when his/her intellects and activities manage to get a strong social recognition without which the all-too-powerful genetic code is never allowed to come to the fore. So, environmental impact or social nurturing is the main thing for a person to develop as a complete human being in terms of intellectual and moral standards.
In socio-political paradigm, all persons are intelligent in some way or the other. It never depends on the caste, creed or colour. Do the black people get proper nurturing because of their socio-political backwardness? Are all the white people are Einsteins or Shakespeares? So why those people are wont to boast of the white men's superiority? In that regard, I can remember a radio interview of Dr. Har Gobind Khorana after he won the Nobel Prize in 1968 for his contribution to interpretation of genetic code. He was asked whether Hitlers are genetically born. He answered that Hitlers are socio-politically born depending on the socio-political environment they live in.
It is rather sad that a scientist of Dr, James Watson's stature could talk in such extremely irresponsible and offensive way. Is that a way that an intelligent person could talk? An intelligent person should be a morally responsible person to the society and the world. If he/she is not morally responsible, he/she should never be called an intelligent person.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Friday, October 19, 2007
60 Years of India's Independence
I am not 60 over and even not yet 60.
So, I have not seen or experienced the rising sun at the stroke of that midnight when the independence of this holy land has crossed the Rubicon to sail across the oceanic times through prosperity and adversity.
And through adversity and prosperity it changes. And changes are the yardsticks of changes whether they are pointers for the better or for the worse. Howbeit, changes are changes. This is rule of the game, the Thumbrule if one likes to say. This thumbrule is predictably in conformity with the laws of nature. Nature too changes and it abhors vacuum. But nature does not change in the strictest senses, it transforms and is just transformed. And it conserves, too. This transformation is not an appreciable change of nature and natural laws.
Change is the prime mover of this world. In the context of Indian philosophy, the true nature of this world is its eternal movement. Loss of mobility is catastrophic death and in mobility lies the root of changes. Nothing can remain unmoved for good.
I too change and have changed appreciably like others. And I have lived through the changes in and around my world. Not only that, I have been seeing and following changes since I have attained the age of discretion. Without attaining the age of discretion, nobody can realise the fathom and depth of changes. Can a child see changes around him/her?
Yes, I have seen a sea-change. The thing is that I am born at a juncture or rather I have attained the age of discretion at a juncture when the old world around me compulsively is giving way to the new one. That is, Toffler's Third Wave begins its intrepid odyssey into the olde' world terrifying everything and everyone to make a colony of the age-old strategic system which has naturally become miasmic and moribund. The Third Wave seized all the initiatives.
The changes were loud and clear at a fast and furious pace.
The frogs stopped croaking in the slimy mud. The birds left their nests for a sojourn to wilderness. The sirens of crickets do not deafen the ears at the dead of night. And how does a fish live out of water if their habitats are constantly bombarded by the Monsanto devils./
The Green Revolution had hoisted the red flags heralding a cautionary signal. Beware of this landmass, water! And Air!
Had all those empty stomachs stopped stoking fire inside? Had the two-square still remained a distant daydream? Where have all those birds gone? Where all those flowers lost their petals in the ensuing battle?
Where is that reality-check? The curve is still dwindling.
The time-capsule ticks all the way. It says everything and nothing. It is in the 60's.
In the 60's itself, the heavy-duty baron and magnates, the harbingers of new political ethology, declared glibly and unequivocally: 'Produce and Flourish'.
On the high crest of the Third Wave, how many people have flourished and how many people have got run over? Sure, a few things and places looked rather awkwardly looked snazzy. Only a few posh people got into rhythm and got their acts together to demarcate the lines between White Collars and Blue Collars. Pen Pushers and Pan Drivers.
Thousands of people were evicted from their homes and hearths. Thousands of people left their home and hearths. Some in quest of fortune and some in quest of destiny. The twain never met in unison. Poverty and pride, side by side.
Juices trickled in and seeped through the fractures.
Yes, these are changes, appreciable in dimension and perspective.
There are changes in many more hues and colours. Appreciable and significant.
Old fossils bit the dust making way for new values.
In politics, economy, culture, technological applications, human values, moral rectitude and so on and so forth.
And how many wars have been fought? And how many nuclear devices have been tested on the off-shores at the cost of public exchequer?
Mafia politics, scam and spam economics, cameo culture, globally purchased and worn-out technology in the name of indigenous application, belying human values and irresponsible moral rectitude - all paid in their own coins and bearing the brunt of over-population. In theoretical mumbo-jumbo, there is silver lining to cherish the politics of developmental changes. Only a select few are the real takers. The common denominators' hope belies hope. That is the bitter truth of reality that speaks eloquent for a strategic developmental change for a common future and common lot.
I have seen many changes from the Green Revolution to Information Technology, from indigenous bard to hybrid and synthetic culture closely and profitably in association and collaboration with the global players. Swadesi Jagaran Mancha has played to the undertricks and has melted into the vase of mixed economy. Promiscuity has become the bottomline of independence. Everything is intended for selling in the global market. So, everything is export-oriented and nothing for public consumption.
And Bhopal still is at pains here and there Union Carbide thrives on. No other Bhopal? So many and so many.
Is democracy has reached the grassroots? If it is just being at hosting years in and years out, then it is strong and stout in stature. But where is the 'demos'?
The detractors say that this ancient land of wise muni-rishis has been mortgaged to the interests of super-powers. Is there anything wrong to play the second fiddle to them?
Yes, I have seen many changes and am still seeing many changes at the 60th. year of the indendence. But I wonder whether these changes are real or superficial, whether these changes are just cosmetic and skin-deep.
I even wonder whether the colonialists too have made some significant contributions to the prosperity of colonial India. Face the truth or face the music. You admit it or not, it remains to be seen in the last 300 years' history of India.
So, why is this hype and hoopla? Is this Jung's collective unconsciousness? Herd mentality propagated by all those honourable statesmen to hoodwink the people?
To-day, nobody rembers Mahatma Gandhi! Only his ghosts haunt one and all. He has been timely exorcicised. He has been an old fossil!
So, I have not seen or experienced the rising sun at the stroke of that midnight when the independence of this holy land has crossed the Rubicon to sail across the oceanic times through prosperity and adversity.
And through adversity and prosperity it changes. And changes are the yardsticks of changes whether they are pointers for the better or for the worse. Howbeit, changes are changes. This is rule of the game, the Thumbrule if one likes to say. This thumbrule is predictably in conformity with the laws of nature. Nature too changes and it abhors vacuum. But nature does not change in the strictest senses, it transforms and is just transformed. And it conserves, too. This transformation is not an appreciable change of nature and natural laws.
Change is the prime mover of this world. In the context of Indian philosophy, the true nature of this world is its eternal movement. Loss of mobility is catastrophic death and in mobility lies the root of changes. Nothing can remain unmoved for good.
I too change and have changed appreciably like others. And I have lived through the changes in and around my world. Not only that, I have been seeing and following changes since I have attained the age of discretion. Without attaining the age of discretion, nobody can realise the fathom and depth of changes. Can a child see changes around him/her?
Yes, I have seen a sea-change. The thing is that I am born at a juncture or rather I have attained the age of discretion at a juncture when the old world around me compulsively is giving way to the new one. That is, Toffler's Third Wave begins its intrepid odyssey into the olde' world terrifying everything and everyone to make a colony of the age-old strategic system which has naturally become miasmic and moribund. The Third Wave seized all the initiatives.
The changes were loud and clear at a fast and furious pace.
The frogs stopped croaking in the slimy mud. The birds left their nests for a sojourn to wilderness. The sirens of crickets do not deafen the ears at the dead of night. And how does a fish live out of water if their habitats are constantly bombarded by the Monsanto devils./
The Green Revolution had hoisted the red flags heralding a cautionary signal. Beware of this landmass, water! And Air!
Had all those empty stomachs stopped stoking fire inside? Had the two-square still remained a distant daydream? Where have all those birds gone? Where all those flowers lost their petals in the ensuing battle?
Where is that reality-check? The curve is still dwindling.
The time-capsule ticks all the way. It says everything and nothing. It is in the 60's.
In the 60's itself, the heavy-duty baron and magnates, the harbingers of new political ethology, declared glibly and unequivocally: 'Produce and Flourish'.
On the high crest of the Third Wave, how many people have flourished and how many people have got run over? Sure, a few things and places looked rather awkwardly looked snazzy. Only a few posh people got into rhythm and got their acts together to demarcate the lines between White Collars and Blue Collars. Pen Pushers and Pan Drivers.
Thousands of people were evicted from their homes and hearths. Thousands of people left their home and hearths. Some in quest of fortune and some in quest of destiny. The twain never met in unison. Poverty and pride, side by side.
Juices trickled in and seeped through the fractures.
Yes, these are changes, appreciable in dimension and perspective.
There are changes in many more hues and colours. Appreciable and significant.
Old fossils bit the dust making way for new values.
In politics, economy, culture, technological applications, human values, moral rectitude and so on and so forth.
And how many wars have been fought? And how many nuclear devices have been tested on the off-shores at the cost of public exchequer?
Mafia politics, scam and spam economics, cameo culture, globally purchased and worn-out technology in the name of indigenous application, belying human values and irresponsible moral rectitude - all paid in their own coins and bearing the brunt of over-population. In theoretical mumbo-jumbo, there is silver lining to cherish the politics of developmental changes. Only a select few are the real takers. The common denominators' hope belies hope. That is the bitter truth of reality that speaks eloquent for a strategic developmental change for a common future and common lot.
I have seen many changes from the Green Revolution to Information Technology, from indigenous bard to hybrid and synthetic culture closely and profitably in association and collaboration with the global players. Swadesi Jagaran Mancha has played to the undertricks and has melted into the vase of mixed economy. Promiscuity has become the bottomline of independence. Everything is intended for selling in the global market. So, everything is export-oriented and nothing for public consumption.
And Bhopal still is at pains here and there Union Carbide thrives on. No other Bhopal? So many and so many.
Is democracy has reached the grassroots? If it is just being at hosting years in and years out, then it is strong and stout in stature. But where is the 'demos'?
The detractors say that this ancient land of wise muni-rishis has been mortgaged to the interests of super-powers. Is there anything wrong to play the second fiddle to them?
Yes, I have seen many changes and am still seeing many changes at the 60th. year of the indendence. But I wonder whether these changes are real or superficial, whether these changes are just cosmetic and skin-deep.
I even wonder whether the colonialists too have made some significant contributions to the prosperity of colonial India. Face the truth or face the music. You admit it or not, it remains to be seen in the last 300 years' history of India.
So, why is this hype and hoopla? Is this Jung's collective unconsciousness? Herd mentality propagated by all those honourable statesmen to hoodwink the people?
To-day, nobody rembers Mahatma Gandhi! Only his ghosts haunt one and all. He has been timely exorcicised. He has been an old fossil!
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Yeh Azadi Kya Hai : A Political Introspection
The celebration is on and right before the day's mid-night sun.
And there is so much gung-ho as ever. Right in the nick of the moment and in right earnest. With flying colours and mightbe with much fanfare, razzmatazz and razzle-dazzle for nothing.
And with blaring of conchs and mouthful of words.
And with riot of colours it says so many sweet-nothings.
It is 60 years' old but is yet to come of age.
60 years but not come of age?
Actually it is over-aged but yet not come of age. That is, it is aged or over-aged in figures but not in spirits. The spirit is full of beans. And that is all for nothing
What is there if it is still going on all fours?
Going on all fours is the index of its true face, the baby-faced facade of its 60 years' encumbering is all too evident in the annals of its naive amnesia.
How amnesiac its patrons and guardians are!
Yes, they have buried everything into oblivion to salvage their well-earned salvation. They have forgotten the days of 1975 when the holy cow was solemnly sacrificed at the behest of the Almighty and the bleary-eyed ghost-writers kowtowed at the altar of omnipotence to save her face with white hair-line and to reinforce her cathedral by scripting a new manifesto of songs of freedom.
It is witchcraft and witch-hunting.
The sacred river was strewn with skull and bones. The insipid potion gradually turned gray with the tears of Auswisch.
Nobody bombed for the fear of freedom.
And nobody dared to bare his/her presence.
And culture of silence hit the rooftop in cahoots with more somber silence.
All the Goebels fell to talking tongue-in-cheek with open-chested breast-stroke of machismo.
History is to be glossed over, history is to be forsaken in the brown pages of history. The pages are all too tattered. The humbugs say.
But history repeats itself. In both tragedy and comedy.
And comedy of errors emacted repeatedly. By the old campaigners time and again.
Now again the same ghost-writers are acting like animals of the Animal Farm crying themselves hoarse to glorify the songs of freedom for the same fear of freedom. Was '1984' a comedy of blunders? Who dare say?
The songs of freedom are splattered always all over, the dins and bustles are spilling over as usual as though they are racing one against another to show the world who is more equal than the others to be qualified for the olive branch in the Olympiad.
But they have forgotten that the 60 years’ toddler has failed to deliver the goods at the fair-price shop for those millions who are shedding bloods and sweats at the sweat-shops in excruciating diurnal drudgery.
What is that to them?
Nothing and nothing whatsoever to the bootleggers. Or, carpetbaggers?
They only know how to get paid in their own coins.
Moolah, soft doughnut moolah. Very pricey.
Everything dies. Only callous cash nexus remains for good.
The sweat-shoppers do not know how to sing songs of freedom or cry for freedom.
The street-children do not know how to dance in tune with the songs of freedom.
They just ask silently.
They ask violently in deafening silence with cymals in their hands. Reggae it is!
Yeh Ajadi Kya Hai? Jhuta Hai Ya Sach Hai?
Who knows.
And there is so much gung-ho as ever. Right in the nick of the moment and in right earnest. With flying colours and mightbe with much fanfare, razzmatazz and razzle-dazzle for nothing.
And with blaring of conchs and mouthful of words.
And with riot of colours it says so many sweet-nothings.
It is 60 years' old but is yet to come of age.
60 years but not come of age?
Actually it is over-aged but yet not come of age. That is, it is aged or over-aged in figures but not in spirits. The spirit is full of beans. And that is all for nothing
What is there if it is still going on all fours?
Going on all fours is the index of its true face, the baby-faced facade of its 60 years' encumbering is all too evident in the annals of its naive amnesia.
How amnesiac its patrons and guardians are!
Yes, they have buried everything into oblivion to salvage their well-earned salvation. They have forgotten the days of 1975 when the holy cow was solemnly sacrificed at the behest of the Almighty and the bleary-eyed ghost-writers kowtowed at the altar of omnipotence to save her face with white hair-line and to reinforce her cathedral by scripting a new manifesto of songs of freedom.
It is witchcraft and witch-hunting.
The sacred river was strewn with skull and bones. The insipid potion gradually turned gray with the tears of Auswisch.
Nobody bombed for the fear of freedom.
And nobody dared to bare his/her presence.
And culture of silence hit the rooftop in cahoots with more somber silence.
All the Goebels fell to talking tongue-in-cheek with open-chested breast-stroke of machismo.
History is to be glossed over, history is to be forsaken in the brown pages of history. The pages are all too tattered. The humbugs say.
But history repeats itself. In both tragedy and comedy.
And comedy of errors emacted repeatedly. By the old campaigners time and again.
Now again the same ghost-writers are acting like animals of the Animal Farm crying themselves hoarse to glorify the songs of freedom for the same fear of freedom. Was '1984' a comedy of blunders? Who dare say?
The songs of freedom are splattered always all over, the dins and bustles are spilling over as usual as though they are racing one against another to show the world who is more equal than the others to be qualified for the olive branch in the Olympiad.
But they have forgotten that the 60 years’ toddler has failed to deliver the goods at the fair-price shop for those millions who are shedding bloods and sweats at the sweat-shops in excruciating diurnal drudgery.
What is that to them?
Nothing and nothing whatsoever to the bootleggers. Or, carpetbaggers?
They only know how to get paid in their own coins.
Moolah, soft doughnut moolah. Very pricey.
Everything dies. Only callous cash nexus remains for good.
The sweat-shoppers do not know how to sing songs of freedom or cry for freedom.
The street-children do not know how to dance in tune with the songs of freedom.
They just ask silently.
They ask violently in deafening silence with cymals in their hands. Reggae it is!
Yeh Ajadi Kya Hai? Jhuta Hai Ya Sach Hai?
Who knows.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Politicians Do Not Know How To Rock and Roll
Once rock star Remo song a sung. It was like this : Politicians don't know how to rock and roll. I also admit that these special breed of buggers do not really know a thing or two. They are just humbugs, humbugs to a faulty extent. You cannot educate them. They are just uneducated. Uneducated? No, they are ill-literate.
And they are humbugs. They are arrogants. Arrogance is their way of life. Arrogance is deeply ingrained into their veins. They are so arrogant that you just cannot ignore them. Their arrogance is such that it brings you to their bandwagon and you learn to bear with it as you just cannot keep shy of their influence.
Arrogance is their main stay. It is their power. It is their power of influencing which overpowers you. You are overpowered and beaten to their kind of arrogance. You never know how to over power them and get the better of their overpowering influence. And you are influenced and get beaten in the fray. Overpowering this way is their sole motive in this game of power.
You are overpowered and you sell your power at a discount in that compelling situation. You get purchased by that compelling situation. Now you are just worthless. You remain worthless as you have already dispensed with your power. Being worthless means being powerless in the process. And you are led by the nose. This is what they want from you.
And you are always wanted. Most wanted in their game of arrogant power politics. Otherwise, they themselves are worthless and powerless. Power pays and pays the worth in real value. This is the zing thing in their games of power politics. The game is never over and the show goes on and on.
All humbugs have assembled.
And they are humbugs. They are arrogants. Arrogance is their way of life. Arrogance is deeply ingrained into their veins. They are so arrogant that you just cannot ignore them. Their arrogance is such that it brings you to their bandwagon and you learn to bear with it as you just cannot keep shy of their influence.
Arrogance is their main stay. It is their power. It is their power of influencing which overpowers you. You are overpowered and beaten to their kind of arrogance. You never know how to over power them and get the better of their overpowering influence. And you are influenced and get beaten in the fray. Overpowering this way is their sole motive in this game of power.
You are overpowered and you sell your power at a discount in that compelling situation. You get purchased by that compelling situation. Now you are just worthless. You remain worthless as you have already dispensed with your power. Being worthless means being powerless in the process. And you are led by the nose. This is what they want from you.
And you are always wanted. Most wanted in their game of arrogant power politics. Otherwise, they themselves are worthless and powerless. Power pays and pays the worth in real value. This is the zing thing in their games of power politics. The game is never over and the show goes on and on.
All humbugs have assembled.
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